


September

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A little fluff tho, Angst, Comfort/Angst, Drabble, M/M, Post-Death in the Family, Short One Shot, Songfic, didnt mean for it to be this angsty, i think thats supposed to mean that "they died before this happened", which is what i need
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4871833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Upon wandering to their room, he recognized the sound of some soft music. He knew the song almost immediately, since it was more gentle than Marco’s usual stuff, but the song he heard was one saved for special days. Usually days that were rainy, full of melancholy, times of remembrance, or a mixture of the three. Today had seemed like a normal day, but Jean already knew why that song was playing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	September

**Author's Note:**

> Since links are a pain in the ass:
> 
> http://listenonrepeat.com/?v=jVO8sUrs-Pw#Green_Day-Wake_Me_Up_When_September_Ends_lyrics

Stepping instead and throwing off his coat, Jean announced that he was home. When he didn’t get the response he was expecting as he pulled off his shoes, he frowned, straightening up again. He padded around in his socks, prying off his belt as he looked for his housemate, or really, his boyfriend. After all, it wasn’t often that he didn’t even give Jean a simple “Hello” in greeting.

 

Upon wandering to their room, he recognized the sound of some soft music. He knew the song almost immediately, since it was more gentle than Marco’s usual stuff, but the song he heard was one saved for special days. Usually days that were rainy, full of melancholy, times of remembrance, or a mixture of the three. Today had seemed like a normal day, but Jean already knew why that song was playing.

 

_Summer has come to pass._

_The innocent can never last._

_Wake me up,_

_When September ends._

 

The lyrics spilled into his ears as he opened the door, dropping his belt to the floor as he made his way over to Marco, who lay huddled up in a pile of blankets on their bed. It was already a special day- but not in a particularly good way.

 

_Ring out the bells again,_

_Like we did when spring began._

_Wake me up,_

_When september ends._

 

It was a day, late into September, that always seemed to disorient and break Marco down. Just three days before the anniversary of his sister’s death. His mourning period ranged year to year, but it was always on the 28th that he didn’t even get out of bed.

 

_Here comes the rain again,_

_Falling from the stars._

_Drenched in my pain again,_

_Becoming who we are._

 

She had died on her birthday, which made the date a lot more painful for Marco. He would barely talk - barely do anything but blast his special song on repeat for hours on end. They had been so close, talking all the time; even the few seconds before she had crashed her car.

 

Jean leaned against him, but didn’t dare try to snuggle into his bundle, even if he was taking all the blankets. If Marco didn’t want to snuggle, Jean wouldn’t force him. All he wanted was to make sure Marco knew he was there for anything he need and cared about him deeply. “Do you want some hot cocoa?” It was Marco’s comfort drink. They always kept it on stock.

 

“Not at the moment.” Jean had learned over time that that phrase meant, _“Right now I just want to cuddle.”_

 

“Okay,” confirmed Jean with a nod, as he plucked off his socks and tossed them aside, reaching up to thread his fingers through Marco’s thick hair. He received a faint smile for his efforts, one that was on reflex, not genuine, but still made Jean’s heart soar as much as it made it fall.

 

Pushing away some of the blankets, Marco offered to let him inside his tower of comforters and quilts as he whispered the next string of words, wrapping his arm around Jean’s chest, voice as broken and soft as the look in his eyes,

 

“ _As my memory rests,_

_But never forgets what I have lost._

_Wake me up,_

_When September ends._ ”

 

“Bad month, huh?”

 

He hummed in response, but didn’t say anything else.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you TheFullMidgetAlchemist, for dubbing me as the queen of sads (I have more to post!! and you haven't even seen what I have for Hand Me Your Courage). Now, where is my crown?
> 
> I apologize. 
> 
> (I have been listening to this song on repeat since the beginning of the month.)


End file.
